


Red

by Lacrimula_Falsa



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cap_Ironman Tiny Reverse Bang, Extremis, Inspired by Fanart, Light BDSM, M/M, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 01:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacrimula_Falsa/pseuds/Lacrimula_Falsa
Summary: "My Tony used to taste like metal and coconut and smell like that cloyingly sweet aftershave he liked. But you're not him any more." [Steve/Tony, AU. Written for round four of theCap-Iron Man Tiny Reverse Bang 2018, inspired byWinterstar's gorgeous art.]





	Red

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Look at Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15039140) by [Winterstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar). 



> **_Disclaimer:_** I do not own any part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe and/or any other Marvel franchise. I don't own any of the TV series mentioned in this fic. I write for fun, not for profit.
> 
>  **Warnings!:** _mentions of alcohol abuse/alcoholism_ , (fully consensual) _BDSM_ , _safewording_
> 
>  _A/N:_ This fic was inspired by _Winterstar_ 's gorgeous art. Check it out and heap praise on the artist please. This can also be found [on my Tumblr](https://lacrimula-falsa.tumblr.com/post/176601452631) if that's your thing. Unbetad due to time constraints. 
> 
> Code Name: Timely  
> Universe: MCU-based AU  
> Rating: T  
> 

The scene had gone badly from the start. 

Usually when Tony got out the cuffs and put them around Steve's wrists, Steve instantly felt calmer, more collected. 

This time he'd just felt nervous and jittery and if he's honest with himself that should have been the moment he gracefully bowed out. 

Tony would have understood. Sometimes you weren't in the mood. It happened. It happened for Tony too. 

But he hadn't and now he feels like he was falling apart. And like an idiot. This isn't the first time they've done this and he should have known better. 

Steve's back stings where Tony's hit him. That should have been his second clue that this scene wasn't working. The pain had just been pain, like on the battlefield. No pleasure in it whatsoever. 

The belt comes down again, a sharp ripping pain down his back, and Steve finally rallies his wits and chokes out 

"Red.". 

Behind him Tony freezes. 

There's a moment of absolute stillness before -- 

"Okay. Can it touch you? I'm gonna take the restraints off, alright?" 

Steve nods. Twice. Scrambles for his voice. 

"You can take them off." 

Mere moments later the cuffs fall from his wrists. 

When they unlock, it's like something in Steve's throat does too, and all the words he's been trying desperately not to say spill out onto crimson sheets. 

"Why can't we ever talk about it? It's all I ever think about when I see you now and I don't know how to stop." 

Tony's hands still where they've been taking off Steve's collar, like they're suddenly cradling something fragile and precious. 

He hears Tony draw in a shaky breath. The hands holding the collar fall away from his neck. 

Steve desperately wants to grab them, but he doesn't dare. He makes himself speak again instead. 

"It's like you're so far away from me. When I see the colour your eyes are now it makes me want to scream." 

There's a terrible choked sound from behind him, but Steve doesn't turn around. He can't look at Tony now. If he does he's never going to say this and then he'll just fall apart all over again. 

"Steve --"

He's not done. He's not. He's kept his silence this long and he just can't do it any more. 

"No. No, you listen to me. I've been trying to be respectful of your wishes. Not to talk about it. But no one ever asked me what _I_ want. And I can't do this thing where we never talk. We don't talk about _anything_ any more. Nothing. Not your work at Stark Industries. Not about what the team does on missions. We don't even talk about CSI any more." 

Steve finally twists to look at Tony, his resolve broken. He has to see Tony's face when he says this. He has to _know._ He already knows its going to shred his heart. Better to be sure. 

"That used to be my favourite part, you know? Watching CSI with you. How after the episode you'd dissect all the inaccurate science and you'd get _so_ mad. But when I told you we could find another series to watch you always said that you watched it for the characters." 

"And that the science on _Scorpion_ is so much worse."

Tony's voice is barely more than a whisper. There are tears running down his face. They look like quicksilver in the low light, alien. They don't run down to Tony's chin, sinking into his cheeks instead like rain into dry soil. It's horrifying. Steve wants to look away but he can't. 

"Your kisses taste like plastic now, did you know that? I though it was all in my head but Bruce says the serum makes me able to actually taste the synthetics. And you always smell like disinfectant now." Steve taps his nose with a finger. "Alcohol. And I know you say that it doesn't affect you any more but I'm so scared every time that you've started drinking again." 

He wipes a hand over his eyes, annoyed that he's crying again. He's cried enough. 

Tony looks pale now. Ghost-white. It's the first time since That Day that he's looked in any way unhealthy and it makes Steve want to hurl his shield at something. (Someone. Doesn't matter.) 

"My Tony used to taste like metal and coconut and smell like that cloyingly sweet aftershave he likes. And he had crow's feet and grey hair that he let a stylist die because he was vainer than a peacock and scars all over his chest and hands like a dock-worker. But you're not him any more." 

He can't tell what the expression on Tony's face is. Sadness? Anger? He doesn't know. Ever since it started looking ten years younger, he hasn't been able to read Tony's face at all. Steve drops his gaze to the sheets, noticing only now that he's unconsciously been tearing the dark-red fabric into shreds. 

"You're _different_ , Tony, and I'm scared." He draws in a shuddery breath that feels like it gains him no air at all. "I'm so fucking scared all the time now. I don't even know who you are any more." 

He raises his eyes to Tony's face again, blinking away the tears that stubbornly keep gathering at their corners. 

"And I know I'm hurting you, but I can't keep lying about it. I don't want to lie to you. But not talking about it is a lie. Avoiding the subject is a lie. Pretending everything is fine. Is. A. Damned. Lie. Because I want to, Tony. I want to talk about it and scream about it and raise a damned racket and to ask _so many questions_. But you won't let me. You won't. Let. Anyone. Talk. About. It." 

His words have gone sharp and bitter and angry by the end and Steve forces his mouth shut before they get loud as well and he says something he'll regret. 

Tony looks stricken. But there's anger too, written in the harsh line of his mouth. 

"Would you rather I'd just lain down and died? Because that was the alternative, _Steven_ , I feel like you forget that." 

It's such an unexpected question that Steve's brain doesn't quite catch up with his mouth, and the word falls out between his lips before he can think about what it will mean. 

"Sometimes." 

Steve only registers what he's just said when Tony actually physically recoils from him. 

(Like he's been struck.) 

_Right in the heart_ , Steve thinks, feeling numb. 

Steve scrambles to explain before Tony can get up to run away. The intention is written all over his face. But Steve can't let him. If Tony runs now, they're over. 

"I don't want you dead!" He holds a hand out, imploring. "Never. I... never. But you know how I hate the future sometimes and now you're part of that. Because I don't... there are parts of the future I don't understand. That I think I'll _never_ understand. And now you're one of these parts and I hate that." 

Steve's hand falls uselessly to his side. He just wants to curl up under a blanket and shut out the world. He wishes Tony would stop looking at him like that, like _Tony_ 's hurt. Steve knows Tony is, but he's also selfish and he wants Tony to focus on _his_ pain now, not his own. 

"I hate that so much, do you understand that? You've always made sense to me, even with all your newfangled contraptions. But now you _are_ one of these contraptions and I can't deal with it, alright? _This_ is the thing I can't adapt to, where the serum fails me. I can't be married to some... to someone--"

That's where his voice breaks, because this is an ugly thing to say. But if he doesn't, it will freeze him from the inside out. He can already feel the cold settling in, numbing his fingers and crawling into his throat. 

"I can't be married to someone who's... whatever you are, now." 

The stricken look hasn't faded from Tony's face. He still looks poised to run, fight-or-flight at its finest. Brown eyes looking into Steve's own, the irises shot through with silver in a way Steve's never seen in any human. He wonders if Tony still qualifies as one. 

"Are you breaking up with me?" 

It's such a mundane question but it still shocks Steve to actually hear Tony say the words. 

_Break up_. Like it's simple. Like there're not a marriage and a superhero team and years of love tied up in it. 

Tony's waiting for an answer, Steve realises. 

The problem is, Steve doesn't have one. He just feels sick, like someone hollowed out his stomach. 

"I don't want to break up." 

"Then what do you want, Steve? Because I'm getting a feeling it's not me." 

_You're right_ , Steve thinks, _I want_ my _Tony back._

"I want you. But not like this."

_Not when it feels like we're strangers. Not when I don't know you any more._

It's the only answer he has. 

Tony stands up in a sudden jerky motion. Whatever his expression was before, it's firmly settled onto anger now. He yanks a robe on and it takes Steve a long moment to process that Tony is _leaving_.

"Then I guess we're over. You have three days to move your stuff out of the penthouse." 

"You're throwing me out?" 

It's such an idiotic thing to worry about when his marriage is falling apart, but it's the only thing Steve can think to say. 

"You broke up with me, Steve, you can sleep on the fucking couch." 

Tony leaves without even slamming the door. Somehow that's even worse. 

Steve feels like he's frozen, again. Ironic. He tried to keep the ice in his chest from spreading and now here he is. Frozen, with his hand outstretched as if he could hold onto someone who's already walked out the door. 

The _man out of time_ indeed. 

His head feels like it's filled with static, one thought running on repeat. 

_But_ you _broke up with_ me _, what did I do wrong?_


End file.
